


Glass Bottom Boat

by AzulMountain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Derek, Alpha Peter, Beta Stiles, Blood, Double Penetration, Echolocation Moaning, Exhibitionism, Forced Bonding, Incest, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mentions of Past Underage Prostitution, Minor Character Death, NSFW Art, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeur Dolphins, Voyeur Pack, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, deadbeat!Jackson, forced bite, mention of MPREG, photo-manip, shark attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzulMountain/pseuds/AzulMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glass bottom boat tour guide Stiles Stilinski is caught up in his boss’s money troubles and things turn dark when the co-alphas of Hale Industries claim him as their bonus prize.</p><p>Dark story, the Hale Pack needed a vacation from the cold!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Bottom Boat

**Author's Note:**

> One thing to make clear before we begin, if you are familiar with the term glass bottom boat as a sexual term (I wasn't until I started researching info for the story); you will read nothing of the sort here. The glass bottom boat is just a boat here. If that is why you chose to read this story and that’s your thing, no judgment, but I don’t find it arousing and won’t be writing it in any story. Maybe some body parts get shoved in the glass, but that is all.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and would love your feedback!

GLASS BOTTOM BOAT by AzulMountain

 

BULLSHARKS AND CLOWNFISH

Stiles pauses mid wipe and waits for his surprised exhale of bubbles to clear. He assumed the thump and sway of the boat rocking above him to be Scott jumping aboard a moment ago, but he is surprised to see the silhouettes of two men peering down at him through the glass bottom boat. He is even more alarmed to see both men are dressed in fine suits, not the usual vacation dress found in this touristy part of the Keys. When a familiar silhouette clambers down the stairs behind the figures, Stiles anxiety grows ten-fold.

Whatever Jackson Whitmore says to the men as he motions to the diver, the strangers’ cold scowls switch to leers and they nod in agreement, never lifting their eyes from his near naked form on the other side of the glass. The muffled sounds of Jackson’s profuse gratitude seals their deal, causing Stiles to shiver in the warm tropical water from the raw lust in their gazes. It makes Stiles feel like the prize lobster in the restaurant aquarium, whose time is up. The souls of his feet absorb the violent vibrations from the furious roar, let loose by one of the men to make the blond douche stop his groveling. Additional muted commands to the douche are unheard by Stiles, as the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears muffles all of the boat cabin’s sounds. He watches in terror as Jackson scrambles to comply and the owner of the struggling snorkeling outfit motions for Stiles to surface from under the boat where he was working to clean ‘the beard’* away.

Bubbles from his quick panicked breaths obscure the window into the cabin as he wonders if he should follow the directions of a perpetual gambling deadbeat or make a break for the docks. Stiles decides to do the smart thing and swim for it. His employment means nothing compared to getting mixed up with Jackson’s money problems. It’s clear from the men’s leers that sticking around mean nothing good for him.

Pushing off the glass with his feet Stiles makes quick efficient kicks with his flippers away from the boat. Zigzagging under moored boats and keeping to the shadows, he hopes to confuse the men to his whereabouts until he reaches his goal of the marina office about six docks away from his slip. Once there and slightly out of breath, Stiles doesn’t even bother removing his fins as he climbs the barnacle encrusted dock ladder out of the breaking waves. Shaking from the exertion of holding on to the ladder in his bulky gear and fight the ocean’s current, his tired arms tangle momentarily in his regulator tube and he loses his grip on the slippery metal rail. Splashing into the ocean below, his fall loudly alerts his pursuers to his location. He fumbles to shed his flooded snorkel mask when it catches on the BCD vest losing even more precious time. The clamber of running feet on the far dock has him dropping the heavy tank and the rest of his scuba gear to the rotten wood dock harder than he would like, but he keeps moving without the expensive gear he just paid off. He can collect it later, if there is a later.

He duck-waddles quietly as he can in flippers over to the marina office to find his friend and get help. Tapping on the darkened windows he whispers for Scott, but there is no answer. Trying to silence his frightened breathing, he edges around the small shack and out of the glass bottom boat’s line of sight, where Stiles can see several suited men have gathered and hold Jackson in a chokehold; Stiles creeps away to find a better place to hide on the edge of the marina. He gasps down his cry of fear with his shaking hands, when he hears shouts coming from the boat ordering his retrieval or death. He hears Jackson’s frightened call for him to come back and save him, then the douche’s pathetic shouts end with a loud crack of a gunshot. Whimpering, Stiles focuses on peeling off his flippers instead of the eerie calm following the execution, even the sea gulls have stopped calling. He silently curses the loud wet sucking sound they make as the suction breaks. He digs his wet feet into the hot sand and mentally prepares to run from his hidden spot behind a stack of buoys, fish nets, and crab traps into the mangrove; resolving that these hardened men mean business and will likely to shoot him just like Whitmore, if he wastes any more time.

Shouts from the men grow further from Stiles trembling form and he forces himself to relax thinking he is in the clear. He is about to make a move, but hesitates when he catches the flicker of sunlight being blocked in reflection of a buoy light’s casing. He watches the refection as a large black man silently approaches him from his blind spot and waits to time his escape. He just barely manages to dodge the hulk’s deceptively fast lunge and his attacker gets tangled in the nets. Unfortunately the direction Stiles was forced to flee brings him right into a different minion’s arms. He bucks wildly kicking sand up at the shaggy blond henchman, who easily lifts his tall fit body off the ground.

Managing to get an elbow into the man’s stomach, before the man can pin his struggling arms, Stiles unclasps his scuba weight belt and swings the impromptu weapon right into the guys shoulder knocking him down to the sand with a terrible crunch of bones breaking. A growl from behind Stiles alerts him that the brawny black man has freed himself and is now closing in on him. Stiles realizes he has no chance of out running the man, so he turns to face him. He tries the same maneuver with the weight belt, but the guy catches the strap before he can do any damage with the heavy lead. The goon uses the belt to pull him into his strong chest and Stiles screams in pain as the strong grip pushes all his air out of his lungs. Biting down the man’s thick pectoral muscle with the only weapon he has left does nothing; it only makes the guy squeeze his body tighter, until all the fight leaves Stiles.

He sees spots and he thinks he is about to pass out from the hold, when he feels the pinch of a needle in his neck. The rush of sedative drugs does nothing to temper the growing panic attack. The goon loosens his hold and Stiles slumps into the sand. His anxiety keeps him from drawing the breath he desperately needs, despite the forced calming cocktail in his veins. He passes out under the tropical sun and swaying palm trees to the thought that he’ll never see this paradise alive again.

 

*the habitual residue from ocean creatures making a home on the hull, Stiles has to clean it or the guests won’t be able to see clearly.

 

 

 

LIONFISH AND TRIGGERFISH

A warm wet lick draws the unconscious young man out of his deep sleep and into that peaceful state between the worlds. The warm undulations against his neck trigger the Deja vu of his old golden retriever waking the young teen from slumber for school in the same manner years ago. He allows himself a short reprieve of desperate longing for his home, before he remembers all the bad that came after. He forgets all the years of his desperation as a young teen on the streets and tries to conjure the innocent time of his happy childhood. It was a peaceful time, he had no knowledge of the effects males had on his pubescent body and he believed his family would love him, no matter to whom he was attracted. The disowned fifteen-year-old had left his small minded town in search of a more understanding place. After years of persecution and surviving in less than ideal conditions, Stiles had finally found that stability. Granted working as Jackson’s tour boat skipper was hardly an easy job, but it meant a paycheck. He had money to eat and pay rent, money that didn’t come from turning tricks and the dangers that life holds. As his foggy mind travels out of the abyss and into the waking world, he remembers that all his hard earned peace is lost because of a loser’s waywardness.

Stiles thinks he’s waking to the anticipated effects of his panic attack, vertigo, nausea and a tight chest, but the gentle rolling of the entire room and the sound of lapping waves against the boat hull clue him in to the fact that he is on a boat. The whole boat is swaying and it is not just in his head. He can no longer smell the boat fuel or gutted fish from the docks. He can’t hear the sounds of the busy harbor, only the boat’s idling engine cutting off, the quiet electric droll of it automatically rising out of the water, and splash of an anchor hitting the water. The boat swings about face on the line and the fresh ocean breeze helps clear the dazed young man into his familiar surroundings. He is in the cabin of his own boat, lying on the seat cushions surrounding the glass bottom portal.

Twisting his head around weakly, Stiles looks for the reason he awoke and bumps his nose into the scratchy stubble of a man’s jaw. Stiles lurches away in shock from the smirking man, but he doesn’t get far. One of the men in suits from earlier grabs the straps of the impromptu bindings, a personal floatation device restraining his arms tight to his sides, and hauls him up onto the man’s lap. Stiles gasps and tries to squirm away from the erect member that prods into his left butt cheek through his damp suit, but he stills his efforts when the cock gives an interested twitch to his wild movements. The man chuckles low in his ear at his squirming prey, scratching his gruff stubble across the sensitive skin of his neck, not caring in the least that the salt water is destroying his expensive silk suit.

“Let me go. I have nothing to do with Jackson or his gambling. I’m only a skipper and a tour guide. Please, just let me go.” Stiles fluttering voice is shallow in his demand, but he has to make it clear he doesn’t want this man, no matter how gorgeous he is.

To answer Stiles, the dark haired man brings his salty mouth over Stiles in a harsh demanding kiss. Stiles gasps and tries to turn away, but the force of the man’s grip on the back of his head keeps him in place. Growling in anger at the man’s liberties with his body, Stiles bites down hard on the invading tongue and shrinks in fear as the bastard actually grins, instead of withdrawing in pain. Stiles releases the wounded flesh from his teeth to gag at the flood of the man’s blood pouring out of the bite. The man’s restricting lips tighten around Stiles raw lips and the younger man is forced to swallow much of the metallic sweet liquid or start choking. Stiles whimpers in fear when he sees the man’s eyes flash inhumanely red in amusement and turn feral with lust. The stem of blood in his mouth tapers off until the writhing muscle is undulating like it is fucking his mouth at the same pace as the man’s erection rolling into Stiles wet ass crack. The hard member punches against back of Stiles balls. Warm fluid replaces the cold damp of his swimsuit as their body heat grows and the man leaks pre-come into the crease through his suit pants. His captor’s self-lubricated ministrations heighten the gliding friction and much to Stiles mortification, his body responds to the assault. Heat coils into his belly and he shudders as he twitches in arousal. Honey amber eyes widen in shock at his unwanted lust. His betraying voice groans out in pleasure, telling his captor he is neither disgusted nor pained by his intimate touch. The man smirks and continues to plunder his unwilling mouth to see how far he can crumble the younger man’s resolve to be the victim and not a willing lover.

Stiles recoils when he can feel the once shredded tongue has healed completely. His own forced pleasure is forgotten when he remembers the unearthly nature of the man holding him. Spit and blood meet salty tears, as the gruesome kiss grows even more heated and his captor sheds his humanity. Stiles tries to bring his knee between their bodies, but fails when the stranger expertly maneuvers Stiles reluctant tongue into his mouth and sucks hard and strokes the flesh as one would perform a fellatio. Stiles cries when he can feel the man’s sharp teeth teasingly nipping at his flesh, not puncturing enough to draw blood, but the intent to make Stiles feel pain is there.  Every pain laced moan out of the sun tanned youth is accompanied by a content growl. Shivering at the unnaturalness of the seemingly human individual, Stiles throws all his strength to one side, not caring if he strikes his head on the rail in his desperation. He needs to get away. His long legs tangle in a heap and his core absorbs the force of his failed attempt, when the creature stops him.

Stiles only managed a short three inches distance from the animalistic beast’s snarling face. The poof of cushions deflating as his head comes into hard contact with the boat seats, mimics the whoosh of breath he losses when dark haired man tosses him onto his back and straddles Stiles already tight chest. Stiles only can manage shallow gasps and cold sweat from his fear and pain pours onto the slick leather below. It makes his flushed clammy skin tacky with the humid material as the sticky mess of blood, salt water, and sweat from their heated play pools under Stiles back. Again, his captor’s eyes flash frighteningly red and Stiles can only stare at the man’s glowing irises as the man growls low and holds Stiles lower lip between his sharp teeth. Finally the addled prisoner realizes the man is waiting for his attention. When Stiles can concentrate and take in more of this creature’s features he can feel the beast’s facial hair poking his flushed face. The man/creature no longer has eyebrows; they seem to have shifted into horrible side burns. The gradual transformation of the human appearance falling into that of a demon’s is complete when the beast no longer resembles a human but more of a wolf-gorilla monster.

“No,” Stiles whines in terror as tears well in his frightened eyes at the horror of his situation. The dark smoldering gaze of the predator takes another moment to relish Stiles fear and then bites viciously into his lip. Hot blood drips down both of their chins. His retribution for the bite earlier served, the beast is quick to move on to the main event. Stiles is given no time to think about the pain in his lip, when the horrifying beast clamps down on the junction of his shoulder and neck. Gyrating his elongated teeth just to hear Stiles scream crescendo twice before the bonus prize of today’s business deal passes out from the pain.

 

 

 

SHARK CHUM AND OYSTER PEARLS

 “Derek, I thought we agreed to wait until after the show to divulge in our newest treat together.” Peter saunters into the cabin to the bloody mess of the co-alpha and newest bitten pack mate nesting on the soiled cushions of their new boat.

The older Hale growls at the mess, but figures it doesn’t matter anyway, they never intended on reviving Whitmore’s snorkel/glass bottom tour business. He scoffs at the idea of the Hale pack running dive boats; werewolves, salt water, and a boat load of headache. Land creatures and open water for a vacation in a yacht is one thing, it’s another thing to make it a living. Not that the werewolves need to do the work, the Hale Corporation could easily outsource the job. This little work-vacay was all a move to nudge their family’s influence in the area and nothing says ‘hello’ like whacking-off the wayward son of the Whitmore family over a little debt or so Peter thought. Turns out Derek’s scheme to loan the gambling addict hundreds of thousands dollars when daddy cut off Jackson, was because the alpha found his little crush from years ago, clear across the country and working for the loser. The co-alpha had been suspicious of Derek’s intentions for several years, as he secretly kept track of some vagrant, but now Peter can see why the obsession. This rare pearl is the disowned teenager of the recalled Sheriff Stilinski, whom Derek falsified evidence to bring prostitution racket charges against the innocent official and led to time in prison; clearly a move in retribution against the father for kicking out his young teenage son for his sexuality.

The alpha shakes out of his transformation until Derek’s dark handsome face appears. “The wild cat needed a lesson about his place in our pack. Plus he’ll be more fun, if he can handle us together. This one is worth more than one round, I can smell his potential.” Derek Hale adoringly caresses the younger man’s beauty marks and traces his clawless finger over the twenty-something’s full lips smearing the crimson blood like lipstick over his parted mouth. 

“Indeed he does smell delicious, but you can drop the charade. I know all about your little Stilinski habit.” Derek swings his head over to his uncle in surprise, but relaxes when there is no anger in Peter stare. Derek accepts his Uncle’s careful surveillance in all things pack related, including his own shadowy moves because his uncle has proved time and time again that he is a master strategist and only works for the wellbeing of the pack.

Peter just laughs at his nephew’s expression, it takes him back to days before the Hale Fire, when he’d catch the young pup red handed with his fist in the raw meat refrigerator drawer. Times have not changed much.

The salty scent from the young man’s tears and blood and the fear laced arousal waft from the couple. It also smells of wet dog, but Peter holds his tongue; it is considered impolite to bring up dog references among werewolves. Then he catches the subtle scent of a lightning storm in the cabin and smirks. “A treasure, this one is quite rare. His inner Spark will accelerate the change, assuming he survives.” He ambles over to the railing and watches the school of fish passing over the coral heads 10 meters below. He can hear the rainbow parrot fish chomping away on the reef below and various lobsters scuttling in the shadows. It is like a different world and his senses are drinking in the new experience.

“His name is Stiles, dear Uncle and he will survive. I am certain.” Derek looks over to his uncle’s blood splattered body. “You look like you’ve been busy dismantling our dear friend Jackson or is it someone else? Perhaps that mess is from the tan friend that Allison picked up from the marina office, the one who Mr. Stilinski sought for help?”

“Our dear enforcer would never give up her prize for shark chum. Chris seems equally interested in saving the little twerp. He witnessed Jackson’s murder and Mr. Stilinski’s kidnapping, but Allison stopped him before he could call the authorities. She earned her prize and who am I to come between the Argents, after all I am only their co-alpha.” Peter’s eyes flash red as he drawls out the sarcasm. The father and daughter were turned in reconstitution for the death of their family members. All other Argents and hunters affiliated with the family were killed. He savored the long painful torture of Kate, Victoria, and Gerard Argent’s miserable deaths. “They still fight my commands. It’s been six years and still that bastard pulls the code shit on me. Does he not realize he is a werewolf? If one piece of ass keeps him in line, I’ll take the little shit’s attitude. Derek, the kid had the gall to turn down my bite! Of course he wasn’t given the option, but I offered the gift and he asked for a gift receipt.” Peter gives a tug to his hair in frustration and sighs, cooling his temper, the brat won’t be his problem to deal with he has his own morsel to enjoy with Derek. ‘Ah the perks of being co-alpha.’

“He’ll probably be a strong beta and it sounds like the Argents will finally accept their role in the pack, if we can hold the shit’s life over them, otherwise we’ll just kill the boy. Why do I hear Isaac whistling his creepy _Kill Bill_ song?”

Peter chuckles as he focuses on the catchy vengeful killer’s tune coming from the moored yacht a good eleven miles away. Water carries sound further than land and the alphas needed space to enjoy their new toy away from the beta’s hearing. “You know that he likes to whistle while he works. We should be lucky sharks are not as discriminative when it comes to flesh as werewolves; the rancid meat of a spoiled Whitmore is foul. The boys and I were just preparing our bait and then I heard your pet scream. I motored over in speed boat and find you enjoying the prize without me. But it turns out, you were only giving him the bite, so I’ll forgive you. “

 

 

BOTTOM FEEDERS AND SUCKER FISH

Stiles wakes this time to the sloppy wet sounds of suction and pulsing blood beating in the hearts of three people. Then he feels a rush of heat and his body is lifting out of his warm cocoon into the mouth giving him head. The intensity of his senses is distracting him from the pleasure of the deep throat his cock is pumping into.

“Shh Stiles, just feel it and let it come to you naturally. I’ve got you.” Derek speaks softly into Stiles oversensitive ear.

Stiles twists fiercely away from the loud sound, but stops when his nose catches the man’s delectable scent under his chin. Drawing up in the man’s lap to nuzzle the stubble and run his tongue along the jaw bone, while savoring the man’s taste. Contented grunts, send a thrill down the depths of his core and he only feels the need to please this man. Torn between the loss of the hot mouth or turning his entire body into the enticing scent of the man, Stiles doesn’t have to choose when he is bodily turned so his chest is now resting against the hairy chest of the dark haired man and his cock is shoved against a much larger engorged member. Stiles’ slickness pours over both of them and the cocksucker in the bloody dress shirt resumes his ministrations over both their erections. “That’s it pup, let it come.”

Peter hums a dissatisfied guttural sound and pulls his mouth off their dicks, his warm breath teasing the twitching rods, which are eager for the man’s continued attention. “I thought we agreed he wouldn’t be allowed to come, until he was filled in all his holes Derek.” Stiles whines at the loss. He is so close to his orgasm and begins sharp ruts into the man’s cock, until he is forcefully stopped when a large hand closes around the base of his cock and pinches. Stiles eyes fly open in outrage of his denial to finish.

Then he really wakes up and sees the beautiful body of the monster looking down at him in irritation. Stiles tries to throw himself off the man’s lap, but the other guy grabs his balls and the other clawed hand holds the back of his neck and gives him a firm squeeze. Message received, ‘Stay right where I am.’ Keeping hold of his bits and the dark haired man, Derek, has a hold of his cock he can barely breathe in pain and he feels his dick begin to wilt.

“Peter, gods. I wasn’t talking about the pup’s fucking orgasm; I was talking about his haywire senses. But you just had to start whining and now he’s gone all sour.”

“Chill Derek, I just can’t wait to mount him. You’ve gotten to hold him this entire time and stretch him. I just want a turn.” Peter growls out at the other alpha and lifts his hand away from Stiles’ junk, running his knuckles up his side then down to the small of his back.

Stiles cringes from Peter’s touch, his stomach sinking at the thought of the men touching him while he was passed out and defenseless. Stiles can feel Peter’s seemingly random caresses are actually connecting the dots of all his moles across his ass cheeks, just like all his other lovers. The men claiming his ass was heaven in the cosmos and all his moles were constellations. They all thought they were poets; when really they were Johns fucking a desperate underage kid. Sensing Stiles unease at his adoration of Stiles’ skin, Peter stops. Instead he traces his ring finger down the crevasse of the pup’s ass, until it hovers over his entrance. Stiles jolts in surprise when Peter’s petulant jab into his body is smooth and painless. He can hear the squishing of the viscous lube in his own body; what is wrong with his screwy senses?

Peter gives his colon a wicked twist and Stiles yelps in pleasure. He tries to squeeze the withdrawing finger and push it back into that spot, but the digit makes a lewd pop and Stiles whines at the loss of Peter’s finger. The wet heat of Peter wiping his finger clean on Stiles back makes him growl in disgust. Peter brings his hand to the back of his neck and squeezes in warning. “You are mine to defile as I see fit.”

Stiles drops his head forward in anger and embarrassment, smacking his sweaty forehead right into Derek’s chest and left nipple. It takes a second to remember the last time he bit the man and Stiles abandons the idea to sink his teeth into the muscle.

“We agreed to share, Peter, and I don’t rescind on my promises. You’ll get your hole; I was just trying to give him a warm welcome to the pack.” Derek’s eyes flash back to match Peter’s curled lip and glowing red eyes.

Peter drops his hand away from Stiles’ nape and begins messaging the younger man’s globes. “Fine sorry, Alpha Derek, let’s just get our little pearl back in the moment yeah?”

Stiles is mortified to when Peter effortlessly hauls his ass up to the man’s mouth and begins rimming his already wet hole and digging his inhumanely long tongue past the tight winking muscle. A long keen falls out of Stiles mouth and the pain in his dick from Derek’s hold is replaced with hot need as all his nerves sing at the man’s skill.

Derek watches with jealousy that his wily uncle has squirmed his way into the best seat of the house. He watches as tears of ecstasy pour over Stiles’ face.  Derek covers his mouth over the gasping boy’s mouth and kisses him deeply. This time the dazed boy kisses him back in a storm of swirling tongues and movement. Reaching under to pinch a nipple, Derek relishes in the husky squeal. He switches sides and is pleased to see the other is even more sensitive. Stiles is literally melting under the men’s touches, his Adam’s apple bobbing in an effort to swallow his drool.

“Derek,” Peter grunts unnecessarily that their little pearl won’t last longer.

 

 

MORAY EELS AND FIRE CORAL

Stiles head is pulled down and he comes face to head with the pearling slit of Derek’s cock and his dark pubes are decorated in a pearl strand from their interrupted frontage. The slightly purple head and flushed pink staff is thicker in girth and longer than Stiles own. His gasping lips from Peter’s combo of tongue and fingers nudging his prostate has him latching his lips over the purple head and slipping down the hot pole as Peter pushes his weight from behind.  Stiles is alarmed to feel that there is a slight bulge at the base of the cock as his pursed lips stretch wider to accommodate the girth. He had the misfortune for being marked as an easy target on the streets and has a number of men’s penises in his mouth. Never has he felt the foreignness of Derek’s cock. He tries to back off the member, but Derek holds his wrists to the side and he can’t get a purchase to pull away.

Peter has settled his thighs against Stiles and bounces his heavy cock over and over the hole and up the crack. The man yanks Stiles right leg out from under him and holds it bent out at the side by his calf, twisting his knee and hip painfully. His head turns awkwardly to avoid a cramp and Derek grunts in approval. Stiles starts choking on Derek’s cock in shock when Peter’s impressive girth pushes into his twitching hole. Spit, snot and tears soak his face, lubing Derek’s sopping wet cock as Derek face fucks his mouth, enjoying the spasms from the younger man’s choking and swallowing around the head. Finally the burn of Peter entering him ends and he feels the slightly older man begin slow undulations in a gentle manner. So different than the rough abuse his mouth is going through.

“Suck it pup. Yeah those lips, ughh, I always dream of your lips.” Derek shoves Stiles face to his dark curls then three quarters off. “Lick the glands, bitch.”

Stiles tries to fight the order, but the voice of the man has him eagerly lapping, sucking, nipping; pulling out all his tricks to please this man. Derek pulls out momentarily to reward Stiles for his compliance. Stiles gasps in air and rests his aching jaw as he uses his lips on the man’s foreskin and digs his tongue into the slit. For the first time ever, Stiles is addicted to the taste of cum. He can’t stop lapping up the white beads of the dick in front of him humming joyfully when a new tremor expels more of the slightly salty musk. The younger man takes the head in his mouth again to get more of the man’s milk.

“Oh Stiles, you look beautiful on Derek’s cock,” Peter grunts and huffs over the lean back looking at his nephew’s cock disappearing into the full red lips of the sharp angled twenty something’s face and loving the fiery irritation from stubble burn around both the pup’s mouths. Picking up his pace, Peter’s arousal is heightened by the smell of lust pouring off his new pet.

Now, all Stiles’ bizarrely heightened hearing can pick up is the heavy slap of Peter’s and Derek’s balls as their dicks push and pull out of his orifices. The sounds of their sex are absurdly loud and Stiles wonders if he hit his head on the railing of the boat and this is all just a nightmare. He whimpers as the sensations all over his body with the new senses make him feel beyond his own body, like he is floating and watching the two handsome men pleasuring his body.

Thankfully, the older man drops his straining knee back to the cushion and the painful position ends. Unfortunately that allows Derek more room to reach the tight heat of his throat and the man eagerly tilts head to get to the space. Stiles feels like his is suffocating from the heat and pressure of both ends being mercilessly used. Their erotic pace somehow settles into a harmonious motion and Stiles begins to enjoy their abuse. He feels the edges of his vision turning white, and then a hand gently reaches forward to help him over his peak. Sighing in relief, Stiles eagerly anticipates this rollercoaster of highs to end. A couple teasing pulls and then a finger torturously nudges down on the spot behind his balls delaying his ejaculation.

“No you bastard!” The fury in his eyes is replaced by horror, as he feels both men’s dicks push harshly into him stuffing him full and they stiffen as the base of their cocks begin to swell.

His eyes plead no because his scream is muffled by Derek’s cock. He tries to squirm away, but their firm grips trap him, so he is left to suffer the horror of the stretch.

“Gonna knot you and breed you full of pups.” Peter gasps as his shuttering, sharp thrusts are limited by his swollen knot, but he keeps rutting through his orgasm. A stream of thick ropes spurts into Stiles passage and he would scream at the burning sensation on his raw passage, but Derek is trying to coax his own knot past Stiles teeth to knot his mouth.

“Open up, Stiles, you can take it. Don’t make me break your jaw.” Derek’s veins are popping out in effort to keep control of his alpha shift. He wants to knot the kid, not kill him. Derek massages Stiles strained neck and jaw and Stiles is trying to push him off clawing into whatever flesh he comes into contact. Cool gasps of strangled breaths tease Derek to the edge and he shoves forward hurting himself on Stiles teeth, no matter if Stiles was not ready, but at last he is wedged into the hot chasm and his instinct to bury himself is satisfied. He roars as he releases his creamy seed into his newest beta’s throat.

Stiles wants off this rollercoaster. He only feels pain, as both men take their fulfillment of his aching mouth and ass. Their spent loads bloat him on both ends and black spots chase away any white flash of ecstasy he might have had if he hadn’t been denied. He has withered soft, finding no enjoyment in his position. Peter has collapsed all his weight across his back. He muffles out a “get off” to the bastard, but he can’t find the strength to put any wind behind his demand. Derek is still jetting cum down his torn throat and Stiles can only taste the semen and blood from his broken throat and Derek’s nicked knot. He is angry and scared. In response to his primal instincts, he feels his body changing and the men sense the change as well.

“Oh dear Derek, looks like our new beta is catching on to wolfy things quick, you better do something before he bites off your dick.” Peter mumbles tiredly in his ear.

Stiles only sees the clenched fist in his periphery before it comes into hard contact with his temple and he passes out to benevolent darkness, his mouth and ass still stuffed.

 

 

 

OCTAPUSES AND HARPPOONS

Coming back to consciousness this time is thankfully better than when he left. He is warm and pain free. The overwhelming feeling of safety chokes him deeply. He hasn’t felt so comfortable in years. It’s like his mother has traversed life and death to hold him in her arms. He wiggles deeper into his mother’s warm chest and startles at the abundant chest hair. He spits out the hair and realizes he is in the sleeping arms of Peter Hale. Derek, who was awake resting on his other side, laughs at the surprised pup. Stiles takes only a second to gather his wits and remembers his captives’ abuse. He slams his head back and catches Derek’s nose a solid crunching hit. Stiles can hear the cartilage shatter and lodge into the soft tissue of the handsome face’s cheeks and brows. Stiles may have also got an eye with the solid hit, but he doesn’t stick around to see the damage. He on his feet and sprinting out of the cabin. Derek’s roar of pain wakes Peter, who just chuckles at the alpha’s bloody face and stretches out after his nap.

“Shut up! Go get him!” Derek growls gurgling blood and holding his face in pain.

“Someone woke up feisty and just the way I like ‘em. The pup is crazy pissing off an alpha, he must be raring to go round two flirting like that.”

“PETER!”

“Fine, fine. Come back my delectable hot dog your Hale buns miss our meat.” Peter turns to the doorway, but stops suddenly and grunts in pain. Derek hears the split whistle of a projectile weapon too late to warm Peter and watches helpless as the harpoon bursts through his uncle’s chest. Peter amusement slips from his face and his crimson eyes grow in anger at the barbed shaft sticking out if his chest.

“That little bitch!” Both Derek and Peter growl at the choke of a motor boat.

Stiles turns the keys into the speed boat Peter must have driven to the anchored glass bottom boat. The engine was flooded by gas from an inexperienced boatman and now it won’t start. He is shaking as he hears both men conversing and Derek only sounds partially hurt. He can hear Peter’s sass from the other boat’s cabin and does the only thing he can think to protect himself, he shoots the guy.

The Skipper knows his boat well and after fleeing the below deck he grabbed the only weapon on board and jumped into the spare boat. He tries the engine again. No luck, he’ll have to manually drain the line.  He throws the seat cover off and bends over the back of the motor case and pops the plastic off to find the correct hose. He is so busy that he doesn’t sense that both men have recovered. Peter stands in the glass bottom boat cockpit, while Derek has slipped into the bow of the speedboat as Stiles struggles with gas lines in the stern of the boat. Stiles only feels the soft roll of Derek’s weight shifting from the front of the boat to the back a second before the alpha pounces.  Stiles gets tackled so hard they both flip over the stern seating and into the ocean. From the garbled howl Derek releases he wasn’t unscathed in the fall. He must have slit his leg open on the propeller. Blood is pouring out of the wound and the man is kicking hard to stay afloat and floundering his way back to the boat ladder and barely holding on from the pain. Stiles gasps out at the sight of the detached calf muscle trailing like bait behind the man’s leg bone. Worriedly he spins around for any predators in the water, but the blood has obscured the visibility  of the usually clear blue water. The amount of blood in the open water from Derek’s injury will have all normally harmless small reef and nurse sharks here in seconds and the deeper water varieties, like bull sharks and great whites, will be swarming the scene in a few minutes. If he doesn’t get out of the area he’ll be mistaken as an injured sea creature and become lunch in their frenzy.

“STILES,” Peter booming voice growls.

Stiles feels the back of his neck tingling and he looks over to the red glow of the man with a harpoon sticking out of his chest.

“Go to Derek.” Stiles wills himself to stay put, instead of following the compulsion. “Damn little Spark, I knew your kind wasn’t turned often for a reason. Look, I offer you this rare chance to go without my punishment, if you pull Derek out of the water right now! What are you going to do? Swim for the coast, while covered in blood? Get Derek and your fool head back on the boat and you won’t be hurt by me or the sharks. Now Stiles! Two-o’clock!”

Stiles dodges the shark jaw that would have taken his arm and slams his remarkably strong fist into the predators nose, compacting the flesh into its skull. The shark rolls to the side instantly dead, but Stiles can hear the fins of others cutting through the ocean waves 40 feet away. He butterfly kicks back to Derek and pushes him out of the water onto the sterns ledge. He pulls himself up and hauls Derek over the seats into the hull of the boat just before the snapping teeth of two large bull sharks can reach their bloody forms. The boat rocks violently causing Stiles and Derek to roll into each other as the fish attack the boat in their frenzy and water pours off the great beasts, soaking the speed boat.

Derek holds his mending calf muscle in place and lashes out with claws at the fish that has managed to perch itself on the rim of the boat’s starboard side and is snapping down at his lunch. Stiles watches in wonder at the differences between the man and his other animal part and wonders what these men are.

“Stiles help me push him back.” Derek grunts tiredly and Stiles wedges out from the cramped soggy space to grab an oar from the side storage compartment and together they push back the seven hundred pound fish back into the ocean. The weight rocks the boat and almost turtles and the water begins flowing in the sinking side. Stiles grabs Derek’s bulk and together their weight counter balances the boat, so that it doesn’t capsize, but they have a lot of bailing to do before the boat can be used.

Stiles sighs and lets his heart and lungs settle, turning his back on the hurt man still floating in the boat water. Stiles surprises himself with the frustrated howl he gives as he absorbs the fact that he is trapped in this hell. His voice no longer sounds human, it sounds like a wolf. He stares blankly at the claws at the tips of his hands and watches as they recede into his normal crescent nails. In the chrome decal on the speed boat he sees his own eyes glow a bright gold. “What did you do to me?”

“Now Pup, there is no reason to get upset.” Peter hisses as he breaks the staff of the harpoon shaft and pulls it out himself. There is a roar of pain and then Stiles watches as the flesh knits before his very eyes. Peter gathers the coagulated blood on his hand then flicks it over board to where the two sharks have settled on devouring the buddy Stiles killed. Peter looks more interested in their cannibalism, rather than the tantalizing naked younger man standing in the other boat right next to the wheel and consol. The rapist even gives his semi a few yanks as he watches the carnal show and Stiles shudders at the madness of these men/creatures.

Stiles keeps an eye on Derek’s limp form resting in one of the captain chairs, who stares deliriously at his naked backside, but thankfully remains soft. Stiles has no doubt that the bastard could jump up and grab him, but the guy lost a lot of blood and that is bound to slow him somewhat. So he remains where he is and tries to think of the boat’s circuitry he needs to repair to get the auto pump going, but to do that he needs to get the motor going to charge the house battery.

When Stiles turns around, he sees that Peter is no longer watching the frenzy; his ice blue eyes are watching Stiles turn a calculating look away from the control panel of the speed boat. That thought has him walking into the cockpit. Stiles can hear the instruments of the hydrofoil shredding under Peter’s claws and now he knows that his backup plan is gone. He is stranded.

“Lahey, bring her around. There is a great show here already, get your snorkel gear ready and bring our new friend. Over.”

“Got it, Alpha Hale. Over.” The crackle of the radio smashing makes Stiles cringe and something new inside of him makes him cower. He wishes to please this angry man.

“Alright Pup Stilinski, let’s get Derek settled then we can talk about your new glorious life as a beta werewolf.”

 

 

SONAR AND DOLPHINS

Peter’s hand is wrapped tightly across the back of his neck and the alpha is pushing it, stroking his other hand down his side in a petting motion, while Derek is fucking agonizing slow into his ass and drawing out completely. This frustrating torture keeps him hard and wanting, but he is denied his finish each time and the werewolves have excellent stamina. “Such a good puppy, I have never seen a bitten werewolf control himself so well.”

“You promised, you bastard!” Angry hitching breath turns an unconscious mewing as Derek strikes into his prostate again then pulls away and Stiles is riding the gentle tidal wave of pleasure, but it’s not enough and he groans in frustration. Derek smashes his face into his the glass and he watches the crowded portal as the Hale pack dives around in amusement of his public punishment. His face is flushes in embarrassment as the jerk-hole that he hit with the weight belt, beta Isaac Lahey, taps on the glass and makes a goofy face at him and humps the glass joining the threesome. Derek actually growls at the forwardness of his beta, even if it was meant to heckle. No one but Peter can have sexual thoughts about his troublesome bitch. The beta quickly submits and backs off to surface and enjoy the water with the others.

“I believe my words were that I would not punish you, I said nothing about Derek. Such an interesting manner he chose, I agree fully with this clever plan, you are so much more responsive like this. It seems to work better on you than pain.” Peter’s hard cock pumps into his side, waiting for its turn.

Stiles wails another erotic cry and the chatter from the answering dolphins has him trying to bury his face, but there is nowhere to hide. His frustrated tears smear across the glass streaking the surface and at least it blurs out the crowd. Apparently his higher pitch moans is like echolocation dolphins use to communicate and his mating distress has attracted several voyeur pods.

Scott, his friend who traveled to see him after finishing high school in Beacon Hills and decided to stay in the Keys to bum around instead of going to college, is flanked by a beautiful brunet and an older handsome man. Scott avoids meeting the sight of the boat, but Stiles can hear him grumbling and chewing his snorkel in anger. The father and daughter betas tow the reluctant snorkeler demanding species identification to all the reef life the exhibition has attracted. Scott had seen him stuck in a Hale sandwich fucking in the glass portal and almost drowned from his gasp of outrage. Stiles could hear him choking in water and vomiting salt water above on the yacht diving platform, but the blocking and man handling from the Argents and Boyd stopped his suicidal attack on both alphas. Stiles just appreciated the sentiment, but he is still dying from blue balls.

“Please!”

“Please what, Stiles?”

“I need-Derek! I need you! Fuck me with your cock!” Stiles is dissolving into hysterics, he is in so much pain from being denied, but kept hard. “Please, let me cum!”

“Such sweet melody the sounds of your begging, but that’s not what I want you to say. Try again.” Derek smile is dark and hungry he knows he has broken the younger man. Years of longing, all for this moment and he can hardly contain his eagerness to take him without the beta’s promise, but he waits for the red tongue to trace over dry lips and call out his oath.

Stiles chokes from what has been asked of him from men who have taken so much from him. His humanity is gone and now they ask for his allegiance beyond a typical beta in the Hale pack. He tries to drown his pride and utter the words the alphas want to hear, but he can’t find his voice. A great force beyond that of the snarling beast that shares his core pushes him to silence and he has been tortured for it. “No!”

Derek growls in anger and surges forward over the lean sinuous body of the young man. His teeth nick the gasping beta as the discomfort of his thrust recoils up the pup’s spine. Derek licks a sinfully hot trail from Stiles’ jugular notch across his clavicle to the trapezius where he bit the younger man and licks the smooth unmarred skin. “Peter, I think Stiles needs some additional convincing; if you’d please join me?”

“Gladly, nephew.”

Stiles is flipped over so now the hot midday sun, directly behind Derek, makes the alphas red eyes stand out against the shaded face, it just makes this more surreal and scary. He tries to elbow Peter as the man slide under his body and a second hot head brushes his wet strained entrance. Derek pulls back to make room for Peter and his cock drags mercilessly over his prostate. Stiles bows from the electrifying feeling. Hands wrap around his knees forcing him to curve into Peter’s side giving both alphas better access to his hole, while he was distracted by the pleasure. When he can think again and notices how trapped he is he tries to kick to his freedom, but Derek has a firm hold on him. Panicking from his fear of being torn into two pieces by their double penetration, he uses his claw to draw blood Derek’s thighs or any Hale flesh he can reach. Peter quickly grabs his fists and pins him to the alpha’s side.

Stiles whines at the pinching pain of Peter stretching his already aching hole, “No! Take it out!”

“Pup that’s just my fingers, wait a moment and I’ll give you something to really cry about.” Peter’s silky reply comes from his side. “Not that I am punishing you for the harpoon, but I am going to spear you like a fucking fish and let’s see how you feel.”

“I think that sounds a lot like punishment.” Stiles gulps as Peter shoves a third finger into his body alongside Derek and cries as the hot pain distills all the torturous pleasure that has been building for over an hour.

“Peter, maybe you should just admit you’ve always dreamed of double knotting a fuck toy. I can hear you talking in your naughty dreams about it. We’ve never found the right bitch, but Stiles will be perfect. Can you imagine his belly full with our mixed seed, a mixed litter from both you and me?”

“Double knots?” Stiles’ honey amber eyes ignite to gold, while his werewolf is loving the idea the human mind is terrified. “Stop!”

Peter rips his hand away bites savagely on the Stiles’ other shoulder opposite Derek’s turning mark and growls, “Mine!”

Peter’s balls brush against Derek’s and he shoves his dick into Stiles, pushing Derek in at the same time from the force of his thrust. Stiles screams and the pitch level causes the stressed glass to finally succumb to the pressure of their excessive weight and a loud crack splits the curved glass bottom boat. Stiles looks wildly around as the water begins to flow in. Derek and Peter don’t even stop in their mirrored movement thrusting brutally into his bloody hole.

Stiles is choking on sea water and scrambling to keep his airway above water. Peter is completely submerged and still keeps pace with Derek. The salt water is pushed inside and stings his walls, but subsides as his new beta healing powers work to close his passage. Apparently his Spark counters whatever abuse the alpha dishes so he heals from their injuries, faster and better than the other betas.

Derek’s feral grin broadens at the choking beta and Stiles gasps as his long forgotten cock is finally given the attention he has been declined. He holds his breath as he is pushed back under the rising surface of the water, so Peter can finally get air. He holds his breath worriedly that they will drown him to satisfy their own pleasure and forget that their fuck hole needs to breathe.

Someone grasps the back of his hair and pulls his head out the water. He spits a mouthful of water into Derek’s face, just because he can. The alpha growls and laughs, as Stiles’ smug face falls when their knots begin to swell inside the tight muscle. “No, fuck. Stop, we’ll drown in here if you tie us together in the water.” Stiles screams, but it is too late. Both Derek and Peter are too far gone in their pleasure to care.

Peter strokes his erection and he groans in want, crying as his relaxation allows more room for the strangled knots to sink deeper into his body. “Easy. I’ll save us, if you just promise that little bit of yourself to us. Things will be good. You’ll have a family, a home. Scott will still have his best friend.” The threat is clear in Peter’s voice.

Stiles gasps as the last inches of water in the cabin disappear and he Peter and Derek are all locked in a mass of buoyant bodies, but too tangled to swim. The metal frame of the tour boat gives a groan and the current of water cascading over the sides of the hull pushes them forcefully to the underside of the cockpit floor. Stiles refuses to drown so he just nods to the glowing red eyes in the watery tomb.

As jets of hot semen shoot deep into his abused hole, Peter and Derek work in sleepy harmony to easily bend the metal like a can opener and free them from the lower deck. Once in the canvas covered cockpit it takes them seconds to cut through the material and their writhing form rises to the surface as their ears pop from the pressure change.

Grabbing onto a floating cushion from the seats, Peter and Derek get enough purchase to make small thrusts into his body as they spurt again in release.

“Un-fucking-believe-able, we almost drown and you keep fucking me.” Stiles says when his breathing finally returns to normal. He tries to reach for his own cock, but a hand stops him.

“Your verbal promise first, little spark.”

“Urg…aah-gurh! Fine you bastards. I promise myself to the Hale Pack alphas as a beta.”

“Not quite right; do it right or your testicles will rot from denial and you’ll pickle in ocean brine.” Derek mouths his salty wet ear and Stiles is lost as the man’s tongue reaches his most sensitive spot. He shoves down his being and submits.

“I promise myself as mate to Alphas, Peter and Derek Hale.”

“Yes!” The chorus of whistles and cheers grow from the yacht, but Stiles cannot hear them as the tunnel of white light swallows him and he finally passes out after the transcendent orgasm in the hands of his alphas and mates.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Yo ho ho! This story came about because I wanted to see if I could write a sex scene between the Hales and Stiles, before I mess things up in my other Hale Sandwich story, Mile High Stiles. Please let me know how I did or places I could work on. Also if you guys are interested in the Argent, Scott sandwich (Allison Argent/Scott McCall/Chris Argent) from this story, I may write that story if people are supportive of the idea (it would be a new challenge and it won’t be as non-con). Thanks for reading and being my test subjects!
> 
> Stiles and company are all a few years older than they are in the show, about twenty-two-ish. It really doesn’t matter for the story, but with the photo-manip I thought I should make it clear. No one in this fan-fiction is a minor. Also the photo-manip’s threesome, just happen to look like Stiles and Derek, the actors are not Dylan O’Brien or Tyler Hochlin (that I know of!) I own nothing, Jeff Davis and MTV own all rights to Teen Wolf. No photo permission were given or asked for, the fanart is just for fun. Please don't remove images from this page, thanks!
> 
> If you are familiar with my other story, don’t worry, I don’t intend to make that Hale threesome so dark or non-con; everyone will be happy and consenting.


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